


Violets and Roses

by elephant_eyelash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Comfort Sex, F/F, Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephant_eyelash/pseuds/elephant_eyelash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for mockyrfears's LJ kink meme: Margaery/Sansa - treating Sansa's beating wounds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violets and Roses

The maid is gentle as she lowers Sansa into the bath. Petals swirl around her skin, her hair, a current of colour and the scent of roses and lily petals. Sansa shuts her eyes, allows herself the few moments to let the heat rise to her cheeks, for the bruises to fade under the water.

But Margaery doesn't leave, she realises after a few moments. Instead she watches Sansa, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Dear, darling." Margaery tuts, bringing some sweet smelling soap to Sansa's back, and Sansa crawls into herself, conscious of the bruises making an ugly constellation on her back. Margaery wouldn't have scars, she thought. Her skin would be like white silk. It'd slide between her fingers, and her face feels hotter at the thought. Margaery is still washing her back, making circles in her skin. It feels good. She shuts her eyes. Margaery is soft with her touches, like her Mother. She swallows thickly. The contrast between the smack of Alyn's hand against her chest and the softness of Margaery's fingers makes her feel strange, but soon Margaery is moving her fingers down her back, making her shiver.

"What are you doing?" Sansa asks quietly.

"Violets all over your skin." Margaery tuts. "You'd look much better draped in roses."

She grabs a handful of rose petals and rubs them over Sansa's breasts. Sansa's breath shudders. A dress made out of roses. It dulls the pain, somehow. Margaery comforts her more by telling her about violets. In Highgarden they eat them with cream, she says, dusted with sugar. Violets are delicious, she says, her fingers pressing deep into the base of Sansa's back. There is something hungry in Margaery's voice, Sansa realises, but it doesn't make her feel afraid.

She could hear Margaery slip out of her dress, the change in the water as she lowers herself in opposite. She had a beautiful body, a woman's body, Sansa realises. A flower fully bloomed. She cups Sansa's hand with the faintest touch, before she brings her hand to her breast.

"I fell." She says, softly, making Sansa's finger trace a thin white scar. "Me and Loras were playing by the barge, I got caught in a hook nail."

Margaery's skin is not white silk, she realises. Something stranger, but still as beautiful. Her skin feels prickled. She grabs each finger of Sansa's hand, makes her cup her breast, and she watches Margaery smirk. Sansa shuts her eyes, allowing the scent of the roses to wash over her once more as she begins to massage Margaery's breast. Margaery moans, a soft and sweet sound, and Sansa drinks in the sound like dreamwine.

Instinct guides her, the girl dressed in roses, to kiss Margaery, this Queen of Flowers and Warm Touches. Margaery smiles, her mouth warm and willing as they cushion themselves against Sansa's lips. Soon they are covered in petals from where their hands roam, exploring the perfections and imperfections, the curves and the skin. Margaery's hands begin to stroke Sansa's slit, and soon Sansa feels as if the world is blinded, and awash all at once in colour, the scent of roses erasing the taste of violets from her tongue.


End file.
